Bunker
Doctor said gunshot-poison would be the quickest. I'm not sure if I believe him. She lay beside me, convulsing. I loved her for so many years, and now she cannot even look me in the eye. Once the poison takes effect the seizures will subside, still I already feel her absence. I feel her disappointment. I will not weep for her. I shall weep for the empire. An empire I presided over for twelve years was crumbling at my feet. There were signs it was meant to be, but I never imagined it would happen like this. With treachery, pulverization, and me sitting alone in a blockhouse with a loaded gun in my hand. Hearing the blasts of the shells above my head, knowing that my army, the most powerful army in the world, is surrendering and throwing themselves at their feet. Is this what I have become? Is this what we have become?! To conquer and then lose it all to...subhumans?! Shall the people of my capital thrall under the inferior?! Oh, I cannot bear it! I must end my life! As if stumbling over something in a dark room, a memory startled him out of his stupor. Horrified at the macabre, unnatural image burning into his consciousness, he shook himself back to the present. He was shaking all-over now, his body moist with sweat. Her body was still warm. They seemed to be dropping everything they could over his head, the dull thumps and crashes never ceasing for a moment. The Walther PPK was cradled in his lap, the brass cyanide capsule close by. Taking several calming breaths in preparation, he looked around the bunker that would be his tomb. As the gun is raised there's seemingly a shift in the atmosphere. Like it should be described as more cold and desolate than it previously was. Anxious eyes quickly scanned the room and found Him standing in the corner. He stood, without motioning. His long coat decorated with a yellow star, his boots seemingly stained with...mud? A striped flat hat...the mask is what sold it. A leather composition with a metal canister placed over its mouth, no doubt stolen off a fallen soldier. They had never met in person, but the two knew each other very well. The blasts seemed to quiet. "Strange," the Beast finally spoke, "you were not meant to see me." His hands shook so violently the pellet and gun dropped to the floor. Nerves began to wear. He sat frozen, eyes wide. Staring. His dry and clamorous mouth could utter no sound. "Let us see how this goes." Memories, images from nightmares and thoughts he had suppressed flooded his mind. Though the scenes and the events were all different, He was always present. The election. Paris. Warsaw. From stories from KZ guards. The fires. When he drowned as a boy. It was as if his mind's eye had rewrote his entire life. Watching. "You are remembering. Unexpected." Finally able to recover his voice, he questioned what the Beast had said. "You've been deemed a failure, good sir." He said as He moseyed over to the crimped husk of a man before Him. "That you are speaking to me seems to indicate something has changed. Perhaps." "I am no failure!" the man barked, "They abandoned me, the abandoned their country at her most dire hour! For what? To fall to the lesser?" "Yes, I know of their failures." the Beast hissed, "I have been at your side this whole time. Fitting. You stopped needing me long ago." "The inferior will destroy us. You will see. My people abandoned me, abandoned the lands we strove to build!" The Beast laughed, "You pathetic fool. You brought things to how they are. Your hubris damned you." The man was taken aback, "You dare presume-" The blasts suddenly returned at a deafening volume, as the explosions rocked the area, he was somehow still able to discern, "I presume nothing!" The Beast swung his arms out and the noises stopped. He leaned forward slightly and whispered, "Nothing." He extended his arm and pointed upwards sternly. "You forget your place. I presume nothing, you dog. This defeat was long foreseen…so you will watch your tone, and show some respect!" Suddenly the Beast took the man in His horrid embrace. He grabbed the woman's corpse by the neck and dragged the two from the bunker. The streets smell of sulfur. The smoke plumed. The sound of cheering and gunfire barely reached them. The Beast threw the two on the ground and began backing away. The man lifted himself before he was surrounded by his men. His soldiers, surviving the carnage. The man barked orders at them, but the soldiers would not move. Would not obey. The soldiers toppled their leader and doused him in petrol. Before he could react a flame engulfed him. The soldiers remained unmoved, and it was only then the man realized that their eyes were pure. Ghost white. The Beast observed this holocaust and muttered, "Oh…it was not meant to be this way. It is a welcome surprise. Hagel der Führer!" His movement ceased and the soldiers returned to their stasis. The Beast continued down the street, away from the carnage, quietly singing, "Die fahne hoch…die reihen fest geschlossen…" The years had been tough on Him, and He nearly slipped. He at least felt relief that he had witnessed the lowest humanity could drop to. Or so he thought. Category:Creepypasta